The Skyrim Chronicles
by The Avid Gamer
Summary: My name is Shavir Dro'Ba. I am on my way to cross the border from Hammerfell to Skyrim to sell some of my best merchandise. So far, all is looking well. I see a small group fighting in the distance. I decide to help the losing team. Little did I know how my destiny would soon change... Rated T for possible language, violence, and drug use.


**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own the rights to TES V: Skyrim, or any named NPCs presented in this fanfiction. The only character I own is Shavir Dro'Ba.**

_This fanfic is being made alongside actual gameplay, so expect updates only every so often. With that note, on with the story!_

It has been a long ride from the borders of Hammerfell, and I've almost fell asleep a few times. Had it not been for the many bumps that jostled the cart as we rode, perhaps I could have taken a bit of a... what do the Nords call it? A "cat-nap"? One of those.

Eventually, I gave up on the idea of a small bit of sleep, and opened my eyes for the first time since we got on.

"Hey, you're finally awake! It seems as though we've been riding forever, right?" one of the Nords that had been in my little cart said as I averted my eyes to him, a Nord by the name of Ralof, if my memory serves correctly.

"Yes, even though it must have only been a few hours since we were all caught," I replied, still somewhat drowsy from what lack of sleep I had.

"Do you think we're getting close to wherever they're taking us?" inquired the Imperial on his left.

"Possibly. Hey, driver!" he called as the man up front turned to look at us. "Are we almost there?"

"Yes. Helgen's just around the corner here. Should only be a few minutes." he waved, dismissing our attention.

I looked to my right and noticed the other Nord in our company had a rag around his mouth. "Why'd they have to gag this one?" I asked Ralof as I pointed my thumbs at him.

"They probably did that so he wouldn't kill the guards with his Voice, like he did the High King," Ralof answered.

"His voice? How could a man kill someone with his voice?"

"Not voice. Voice. That man's Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King of Skyrim. He killed the old High King with a Shout. Not much was left of him, save for bits and pieces."

"Quiet down back there!" the driver up front scolded.

"Probably doesn't like the fact that we're telling the truth." I could swear, that under his gag, this... Ulfric, was smiling, as Ralof smiled with him.

The Imperial, however, was not as amused. "Damn you, Stormcloaks. If it weren't for him, the Empire would've remained nice and lazy. However, now that the leader of the rebellions in the Empire's hands, the war should be over shortly." He visibly relaxed as he leaned against the side of the cart.

"You're in the same boat, er, cart, as us, thief. There's only one way this could possibly end," I told him, and I could feel, that as we approached the gates, not very many people would be left in our presence this morning.

As we passed through the gates, I looked forward and watched my life flash before my eyes. My childhood in Riverhold, my first love and wife, Ahdanji, our daughter, Kiseena, my work as one of the best traders in Elsweyr. It all led up to this moment. My execution. OUR execution, for I die with these men today. As we rode up to our final stop, I began humming an old Khajiit lullaby, the same one I had sung to my daughter for many years.

I was snapped out of my trance when the cart came to a sudden stop.

"Why are we stopping?" the thief pondered aloud.

"Why do you think? End of the line," Ralof responded.

We all stood up and walked out single file; first, the King-Killer, Ulfric, then the thief, then me, then Ralof.

"Step up to the block when we call your name," the Imperial officer said to us.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm," The list-carrier called.

"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric," I could hear Ralof next to me say as Ulfric left us.

"Ralof of Riverwood."

"I shall meet you in the afterlife, Ralof," I called to him as he walked.

"Lokir of Rorikstead."

"No!" He exclaimed as he stepped forward, "I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" Next thing we knew, he ran past the guards and attemted to make a break for it.

"Halt! Archers!" The captain exclaimed as he ran around the bend. All we heard after that was the sound of a string being loosed, an arrow flying through the air, and a soft thump, presumably as his body hit the ground.

"Anyone else feel like running?" The captain asked, looking at each of us left, until her gaze, and the list carrier's, met mine.

"Wait. You there. Step forward," The list carrier told me as I walked up to them. "Who are you?"

"I am Shavir Dro'Ba, of Riverhold."

"Where you with one of the trade caravans, Khajiit?" He asked as he wrote down the info. "Your kind always seems to find trouble."

"Isn't that kind of... how do you say, prejudiced? You do not know what I have done for a-"

"Shut up, cat," the captain barked at me.

"What should we do, captain?" the list-carrier asked her, "He's not on the list."

"Same as the rest of them. To the block."

"By your orders, captain." He looked back to me and said, "I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains are returned to Elsweyr."

Behind me, I could hear one of the guards snickering, and barely audibly saying to his comrade, "Too bad, he'd make a nice rug, wouldn't he?"

Disgusted, I followed the captain to the block, where the rest of the captured men and women were gathered. Before anyone else noticed, my cat-like ears pickled up something, not unlike a roar from some animal, but not quite as... primal.

As I looked up to the sky, Ralof noticed and asked, "Shavir, are you alright? You look like you-"

And then everyone else started looking around. They probably just heard it too.

"What was that?" one of the guards inquired.

"It was nothing. Let's carry on," said another.

"I agree," said the captain. "Give them their final rites," she said to the priestess behind her.

The priestess raised her arms to the skies and said, "As we commend our souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for-"

"Oh, for the sake of Talos, shut up and get this over with!" one of the captives exclaimed, walking forward.

"As you wish."

The captain, somewhat miffed by the use of Talos' name, pushed the captive to his knees and had him lean on the hopping block, his head fitting rather nicely in the rounded carving of the chopping block.

With his last breath, he said, "My ancestors are smiling on me, Imperials. Can you say the same?"

At that, the captain nodded at the executioner, and as he raised his axe, I didn't bother to look away, while some others did. I knew I would be up soon enough anyways, but as the axe sliced through his neck, I couldn't help but feel a tingling in my neck, almost in the exact place the now-dead man's head was chopped off. Again, I heard the noise from before, yet no-one else noticed.

"Next, the cat!" At this, the rest of the crowd looked skywards, presumably hearing the same noise I did. Ignoring it, the captain barked, "I said, next prisoner!"

Seeing as how I was the only Khajiit there, I stepped forward. Feeling empowered, I stepped right in her face and said, "I still find that pretty offensive, bare-skin."

Scowling, she pushed me to my knees in front of the chopping block, and leaned me over. It felt odd, knowing that in a few seconds, my life would be over, my head separated from the rest of my body, my last view being that of a masked man, an axe, and... WHAT IN THE NAME OF OBLIVION IS THAT?!

Out of nowhere, a huge, black... THING comes flying from behind the mountains, making the same noise I had heard earlier, and landed on the roof of the tower we were in front of, letting up a huge gust of wind and knocking everyone down. It let out a deafening roar that was seemingly aimed at ME, and the next thing I knew, I was on my stomach, trying to breath, and eventually passing out.

**Author's Note: Reviews will help keep this alive. The more reviews, the more likely I'll be to put up new chapters.**


End file.
